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"No."
"You shouldn't read."
"What's it matter now?" I ask.
"Did she end things?" she asks.
"She will."
"How do you figure?"
"How could she not?" I ask.
"Well, you could do this crazy thing… most men are unfamiliar with the concept. It's called an apology."
"Luna, I don't—"
"Okay. I won't be snarky. But, seriously, Tricky, you're crazy about her. Are you really going to let her go?"
"I can't."
"Can't what?"
"Apologize for reading her site. It would be admitting it was wrong. And it wasn't. I needed that. I needed her."
Luna's eyes narrow.
"What?"
"That's bullshit."
I don't object.
"And, worse, you know it's bullshit."
"No. It's hard to explain. I know I should have stopped reading. I know I should have told her. But apologizing for that feels like admitting I should never have read her site, never fallen in love with her words, and I can't do that."
"Did you really fall in love with her words?"
"Yeah."
"Have you told her that?" she asks.
"No."
She lets out a low sigh. "Seriously, Tricky? You didn't tell her that?"
"It was last night," I say.
"So?"
"She left. She wanted space. I gave it to her."
She leans back in her seat, mollified. "That's perceptive."
"Don't sound so surprised."
"Tell her that." She takes a long sip of her coffee. "Tell her how much she means to you. Trust me, that goes a long way."
